I tried to capture the beauty of both the human body’s figure and its motion.The figure in the image, which is formed into something similar to a sculpture, is created by combining 10,000 individual photographs of a dancer. By putting together uninterrupted individual moments, the resulting image as a whole will appear to be something different from what actually exists.With regard to these two viewpoints, a connection can be made to a human being’s perception of presence in life.

Gardens

It is said that a Zen garden represents in a three dimensional space the spirits of high priests who have achieved enlightenment. The Zen garden is the expression of boundless cosmic beauty in a physical environment, created through intense human concentration, labor and repeated action.

One can attain a feeling of serenity by simply being in the space of a Zen garden. It is its own universe, empowering the visitor to resist temptation, eliminate negative thought, and sever the continuous stream of inessential information emanating from the outside world.

I have tried to represent this feeling I get from Zen gardens in my artwork. Although I am still far from those enlightened monks who labor in nature, my actions of repeatedly throwing liquid into the air and photographing the resulting shapes and sculptural formations over and over-endlessly-could be considered a form of spiritual practice to find personal enlightenment.

Water Sculpture

I am fascinated by the fragility and incompleteness thatexists with all things beautiful.I throw water into the air, and in mid-flight it changesshape constantly, being pulled by gravity and burstingwith surface tension. Each flight barely lasts more than asecond.In each moment, the water becomes a beautiful figure whichcan be defined as a “part man-made and part natural”sculpture.I wanted to capture these beautiful impermanent watersculptures by photographing them in the exact moment, whenthe essence of their existence is pure.

Kusho

As a young student, I often wrote Chinese characters in sumi ink. I loved the nervous, precarious feeling of sitting before an empty white page, the moment just before my brush touched the paper. I was always excited to see the unique result of each new brushing.Once your brush touches paper, you must finish the character, you have one chance. It can never be repeated or duplicated. You must commit your full attention and being to each stroke. Liquids, like ink, are elusive by nature. As sumi ink finds its own path through the paper grain, liquid finds its unique path as it moves through air.Remembering those childhood moments, of ink and empty page, I fashioned a large “brush” and bucket of ink. I get the same feeling, a precarious nervous excitement, as I stand before the empty studio space. Each stroke is unique, ephemeral. I can never copy or recreate them. I know something fantastic is happening. “a decisive moment”, but I can’t fully understand the event until I look at these captured afterimages, these paintings in the sky.